


The Queen of Thieves

by Arvalee Knight (AvaWhiteRaven), AvaWhiteRaven



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/Arvalee%20Knight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/AvaWhiteRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Acaecia has always lived life for herself. She's stolen for herself and taken all of life's pleasures for herself. However, her venture into Skyrim has led to nothing but one overwhelming moment after the next. Before anyone can tie her down and declare her the true "Dragonborn" she makes a run for the border. But when she finds herself in the city of Riften and among the company of fellow thieves, she's found an interesting reason to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fish and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having Skyrim withdrawals so I couldn't resist writing a little something for Brynjolf. Because... Brynjolf

Dragonborn. Acaecia scoffed at the title. The guards had called her that, the jarl and his brother debated over the meaning of it after the sky had shouted it at them. She chuckled to herself in the back of the wagon to Riften. She wasn't even a Nord, which made it all the more humorous. She was an elf, a Bosmer even, not an ounce of Nord in her. None that she knew of, certainly not enough to make her their ancient legend. Dragonborn?

If she was Dragonborn, she was going to get as far away from Skyrim as possible. The only reason she had offered her services to the jarl in the first place was because some Nord in Riverrun offered her gold and food for the favor. After what happened in Helgen, she wasn't exactly looking forward to sticking around anyway.

And why not head to Whiterun, she thought. It no doubt held a good tavern and plenty of targets to steal from. Far better than that shabby little farm town she ended up in.

The Jarls, especially, were known for their wealth. When the jarl offered her a job, she took it, of course. The promise of gold was all too alluring. It was her greatest weakness, the glint and glimmer of coin. And an even greater weakness of hers, was the chance at taking something unique and rare. And surely, Jarl Balgruuf had more treasure than the rest of the measly little hold.

A thief like herself couldn't pass up the chance to swipe a few things here and there while she was winning people over with her charm and allure. She conned and connived her way to the jarl's side, becoming all so very trustworthy... But then that "Dragonborn" incident arrised. She wasn't going to be Dragonborn, some ancient Nordic prophesy about dragons and the like. She was a Bosmer. And the last dragon tried to kill her. She barely made it out alive.

She wasn't going to keep risking her life by fighting the damn things. The dragon that attacked the Whiterun guard tower was the last of it. She'd had her fun and taken her gold. Now it was time to make her escape out of Skyrim before things got too serious. And to be honest, she wasn't a very serious person.

The wagon stopped outside of Riften, the stables next to the gate smelling of moldy rain and pungent straw. She hopped out of the rickety contraption, taking in the night-shrouded surroundings and made her way to the gates. She knew what to expect, the carriage driver having talked nonstop about the rumored Thieves Guild and the corruption running rampant.

A guard approached her, his armor and gear worn from constant use and maybe even a little frayed on the edges. "You gotta pay the visitor's tax before you can enter Riften." She could tell he was scowling by tone alone, his guard helmet hiding away all features.

"Visitor tax..." Acaecia scoffed, tossing her weight onto her hips, knowing this game well enough. His worn armor and overused tunic were dead giveaways. "Do you think I'm that stupid? This is obviously a shakedown. Should I inform everyone--"

He grumbled something, tossing his gaze about the area. "Fine, fine. Keep your voice down." He stepped over towards the gate. "Head on in and pretend none of this happened."

She smiled, one of her wicked and devilish ones, a fingertip skimming along his breastplate. "I'll keep my mouth closed. You keep your eyes shut." She winked and headed inside the city, not waiting to hear what the guard might blurt next.

Riften, to put it kindly, was a cesspool. It was a crumbling town built upon rafters, walkways, and bridges. It smelled of fish and honey, an unappealing combination. It was thankfully warm but the dampness in the air was making her skin unappealingly sticky.

She was going to need a place to stay. And The Bee and Barb was right across the bridge from the gate, it's golden candlelight a beacon in the damp groggy night.

"Your new around here," he stated, voice monotone and brash. "Don't cause any trouble for the Black-briars and we won't have a problem, you and I."

She rolled her gaze to him, sizing up his appearance and his gear. He had some decent armor and he was muscles enough to be a considered a mercenary or a soldier. "Black-briars, huh?"

"Maven Black-briar. She's in charge around here." He crossed his arms over his chest, muscles tightening with the gesture. "The Black-Briars have Riften in their pocket and the Thieves Guild watching their back, so keep your nose out of their business.

"And you are?" She couldn't help but take a few steps closer, batting her eyes and flashing a soft sweet smile.

"Me? I'm Maul." He lifted his chin a bit higher, proud of who he was. "I watch the streets for 'em. If you need dirt on anything, I'm your guy... but it'll cost you."

"Dirt, huh?" She sashayed until the space between them was closed, her hands tucked behind her back. "I'm not exactly clean myself, you know."

"Then we're speaking the same language. Good." He gave a nod of his head. "What exactly do you want to know?"

She gathered information about the Black-briar family and their influence, as well as their ownership of the Honningbrew Meadery which was famous throughout Skyrim. She also learned about the sewers running beneath Riften. The Ratway, they'd called it. And after asking about the rumors of the Thieves Guild, he confessed that they hid out down there. He also mentioned the name Brynjolf, some contact in the merchant's quarter.

Being a thief herself, she had a few hot items that needed fencing. And the sooner they were fenced the less trouble they would cause her.

Maul went on his way as if the conversation never happened, not even flashing a smile or saying a farewell. He wasn't exactly the friendliest person on the planet but he gave her what she needed.

Inside The Bee and Barb was a delectable warmth. It was a nice and gentle glow against the cold rainy mist of southern Skyrim. She passed by tables, rounding her way around the clusters of people to the other side. She finally made out of the features of the bar over the bustling crowd.

"Looking for hired help, friend?" He sat on a bench, a bottle of mead tucked in his hand, voice as naive and eager as he looked. "I'm a master of the arcane and you're in luck. I'm for hire."

She chuckled. The youth looked no better trained in magic than she did. Sure, he wore the robes, but they looked like they hadn't seen a day of battle. She leaned over, pressing a soft hand against his knee, smile playing along her lips as she spoke sweetly, "Master of the arcane? Are you truly?"

His eyes were focused on her lips and her tongue wetting them. "For a few coins... I can spray your enemies in a gout of arcane fire."

She chuckled again, batting her eyes and leaning a bit closer. "I am considering traveling, in fact, but I was so worried I'd be attacked. Are you certain you can defend me?" He was distracted, eyes bobbing between her mouth and her eyes. She slipped her hand into the folds of his robes, fingers like feathers, and pulled out a couple of the coins. Enough coin to get her a few drinks and a warm bed.

"I trained at the College of Winterhold," he boasted, regaining a small bit of confidence. "I can handle whatever Skyrim throws your way."

"When I head out, I might just have to let you know."

"Oh, of course. Definitely."

"Let me buy you a drink, darling." She placed a coin into the hand of the Argonian male who was passing by. "Your finest mead for my darling friend here." She winked at the wizard before working her way over to the bar.

"I'm Keerava." An Argonian worked the bar as well, her scales flushed with soft pinks and her voice croaking. She grumbled bitterly, "Food and drink if you've the coin for it."

She let the coins slip out of her fingers and clank against the counter. "Oh, I've the coin. A room for the night and something strong to drink." She leaned her elbows into the bar, let her eyes scan across the room and the various clusters of people.

"Room's upstairs," the Argonian retorted, slapping down the room's key and a flagon slushing with liquid. "Come back for more drink whenever you please."

She took the items, a bounce in her step. Upstairs was just as warm but not quite as suffocating. Surprisingly enough, she was growing to enjoy the colder climate in Skyrim, the tingle it left in the lungs. Perhaps not the pain it left in her fingers and toes... But it certainly had its perks.

There weren't any people upstairs, thankfully, and she let herself drop down onto the wooden chair, nestled in a small nook outside of her room. She set the flagon onto the small square table before leaning back and examining the key.

Someone moved quietly up the stairs, catching her eyes but not her ears. "Never worked a day in your life for all that coin, lass."

She rolled her eyes up along his form, taking in his waist and broad shoulders, the spark of his dark red hair and the slight curl at the corner of his lips. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean." She tucked the key away safely, returning her eyes to his.

He chuckled, arms folded across his chest. "It's a rare talent to buy a man a drink with his own stolen coin."

"Stolen?" She faked an astonished gasp, batting her lashes with as much innocence as she could muster. "I would never dare."

He sauntered forward and boldly took the seat across from her. His emerald eyes caught the glint of the candlelight as he leaned back. "I'm no city guard, lass. I am, however, interested in your... particular talents."

"And you are?" She tilted her head and stroked back the dark brown strands of her hair, lifting her mug to her lips and sipping the fine brew. She couldn't stop herself from taking in each of his features, the way his lips moved as he spoke each word or the way the candle flickered across his eyes.

"Name's Brynjolf, lass, and I have a... task that needs soft hands and deft fingers."

She set down her mug, knowing well what he meant. And remembering well that Maul had mentioned his name. "What exactly do I get out of this, Brynjolf?"

He flashed his teeth in a cheery smile. "If this job goes well enough, there will be a great deal of coin in it for you."

"Coin?" She chuckled, bringing her flagon to her smiling lips and sipped. "I've got all the gold I can steal, darling. There's an endless supply ripe for the plucking downstairs." She let something flash across her eyes, another glance over his broad shoulders and thin waist. "I want something else for a prize. Something far more pleasing."

"Our little treasury can provide you with whatever strikes your fancy."

"Ah, but how can I be so sure..." She wasn't looking for treasure, for gems or stones, and she made sure to carefully word her request. "How about anything of my choosing... so long as it is part of your guild." And he was very much so part of the guild.

He was catching onto her game. But only a part of it. He hadn't consider himself to be the prize, not yet. "Alright, lass, I can agree to that offer. But a simple job warrants a simpler prize."

She gave a hum of approval, delighting in where this might lead. "Then I guess I better start taking on more difficult jobs."

Brynjolf laughed, rusty but hearty sound. "Firstly, I want a show of your skills."

"Isn't that why you approached me in the first place, Brynjolf?"

"You stole a few pretty coins." He threw her a cocky smirk. "I want you to break into a lockbox in the middle of town, surrounded by people and guards. You think you can handle that?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I can handle that. I once stole a necklace right off a Jarl's desk... while he was sitting at it."

Brynjolf stood up, his lips curled into a minor grin. "If you're as good as you think you are, then we'll get along just fine. Meet me in the town square tomorrow morn. I'll explain the rest."

She gave him a quick wink and tilted her head ever so slightly as he walked away, his clothes hugging his body and showing off each movement along his backside. Leaving Skyrim might not be such a good idea, after all. There was so much she could accomplish with this Thieves Guild.


	2. The Ruse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how this shall play out Mwuahaha

Acaecia woke with a dry mouth, the ale from last night leaving her somewhat groggy and bitter. She made her way downstairs to find Keerava at the bar, readying the tavern for the next round of morning customers. A small place like Riften, of course everyone came to The Bee and Barb for their meals. It was either that or cook at home. And sometimes, knowing the day would be full of labor, people would prefer if someone else cooked their meals.

"Glass of water," she muttered, sliding onto the stool and clasping her skull.

"You've the coin for it?"

Acaecia whipped her head up, a sly smile slipping free. "For water? Surely I don't have to pay for something so simple."

Keerva folded her arms onto the bar and with dead seriousness she eyed the Bosmer. She stated rather coldly, "Everything here costs coin. This is Riften."

Acaecia nodded and slapped a coin onto the bar. "Good?" It was just one coin and technically it wasn't even hers. It was that wizard's gold and there was plenty more to pocket from another half-witted passerby.

The Argonian snatched up the septim as if it were her last. She grabbed a cup from under the counter, filled it with water, then placed it before her. "Don't plan on staying in Riften long, I hope. This isn't a place for the naive."

Acaecia almost chuckled at the sound of that. She sipped gingerly on the water, letting its coldness fill every inch of her. "I wasn't planning on it..." She rolled her eyes upwards, watching as she cleaned down the rest of the bar. "What can you tell me about the people living here in this little city?" She wanted to ask "what can you tell me about Brynjolf" but she thought it would give away too much information. Besides, if Brynjolf was any good at his job, Keerava wouldn't know enough to share.

Keerava gave her the basics, some of the same information Maul had given her yesterday. Maven Black-Briar this and Black-Briar family that. She mentioned a few things about the Jarl and a little bit about the Thieves Guild. She also made a small mention about skooma dealers somewhere out by the docks. A few smugglers worked out there as well. Riften, all and all, wasn't exactly the friendliest of places.

And Acaecia was beginning to think she could call that sort of place a home.

She finished the last of her water and headed out into the muggy morning. The smell from last night was fainter, an overwhelming combination of salty ocean and sweet honeyed brew. The merchant's quarter was surprisingly close by, a stone's throw away from the tavern. And there was Brynjolf, his sultry voice carrying over the few customers that were scattered about each stall.

She watched him for a moment, sizing him up as he peddled his goods to anyone who would listen. In the morning light, Brynjolf looked even better than he did last night, the red of his hair glinting in the sun. For a Nord, Acaecia thought he was rather attractive. And charming when he managed to smile.

She finally sauntered over when there wasn't anyone around to spot their conversation or to listen in on whatever details Brynjolf was about to share with her. She grinned, looking over the large red vials. "Interesting little concoction you have there."

"The finest source of falmer's blood."

She chuckled, pressing the smile off of her lips. "Falmer's blood is it?"

"Aye, lass." He held it in his hand, tilting it under the sunlight. "Cures all ailments that a lively thing like yourself might have."

"And I've got quite a few of them." She rolled her attention across the circular market, flittering her fingers at her side. "One nasty little habit in particular..."

He chuckled before returning to the business at hand. "There's a pretty silver ring in a lockbox beneath Madesi's stand over there." Brynjolf tilted his head, her eyes following the motion to briefly look over the Argonian and his shabby wooden stall. "I want you steal it and place into the pocket of Brand-Shei." He gave another minor tilt of his head, leading her attention over to a dark elf.

She glanced about the space, noting where the guards stood and the few that patrolled nearby. It was getting the ring right out from underneath Madesi's Argonian nose that would pose the most trouble.

"Don't worry about their eyes, lass. I'll keep everyone distracted long enough for the job to get done." He spun the large vial in his palms. "You just give me the signal when you're ready to begin."

Acaecia waltzed away from his stall, strolling past Brand-Shei to look over the assortment of goods. She glimpsed over the armors and weapons of the next stall then strolled over to the nearby bridge to take in the entirety of the space. The moment Brynjolf glanced over, she gave him a subtle nod then turned her attention to Madesi.

"Everyone! Everyone! Gather round!" Brynjolf lifted up the dark red vial, his voice appealing to the ears and all the more convincing the longer he spoke. "This way everyone. Over here! I have something to show you that demands your attention."

Brand-Shei spat skeptically, "Come, Brynjolf, what is this time?"

"Patience, Brand-Shei." He whipped out his best smile. "This is a rare opportunity and I wouldn't want you to get left out."

She stopped listening in order to focus on the true task. She strolled her way casually around the market's wall until she reached Madesi's abandoned stall, his presence having been lured away by the ever sweetly-spoken Brynjolf. Acaecia slipped behind it when no one was looking, kneeling down to lockpick her way through the sliding door and the lockbox with a single pick. It was an easy task, probably the easiest she'd ever been faced with. She searched through its contents, pocketing the gold coins, a few of the gems, and then the silver ring.

She slid the door shut, made sure no one had glanced over before stepping out and stalking her way around toward Brand-Shei's abandoned spot. He was sitting down on a crate, his attention on Brynjolf as he harped on the magnificence of his 'Falmerblood Elixir'. It took everything in her not to chuckle as her fingers ever so gently slipped the ring into the dark elf's coat pocket.

She stepped out from behind the stall, following the stone wall to watch as Brynjolf tried to coax someone into buying his hoax for a mere twenty gold septims. She jingled the coins in her pocket, an idea sparking into a smirk. "Falmerblood? Did you say Falmer?" Acaecia stepped forward, moving through the gathering of people, her voice rising above the others. "By the eight, I've searched everywhere for some Falmer's blood. I must have some!"

"The finest," added Brynjolf, watching her curiously dig around in the confines of her pocket. "It can cure you of all sickness, elongate your life for hundreds of years..."

"Two bottles!" She lifted up the handful of coins, allowing the crowd to eye it. "All of my gold septims for two bottles."

There was a twinkle in Brynjolf's eye, a delighted joy that crossed his face. He knew exactly what she was doing and quickly held up his end of the ruse. "Mind telling me, lass, what this little elixir here could do for you?"

"I was dying at the entrance of a Dwemer ruin." Acaecia looked over her shoulder at the crowd in an attempt to look modest, plastering a mix of sorrow and fear into her features. "I'd managed to kill a falmer that attacked me and... I was so thirsty that I... drank its blood." She stepped forward and pressed the coins into his hand. "That blood saved my life."

Brynjolf's attention was locked onto her, admiration and something else heating his gaze. "Two bottles it is lass." He pocketed the coins and carefully handed over the glass flasks, turning his attention towards the rest of the crowd. "I've only a limited stock and a few more bottles left to the next customer."

"All of it," blurted a rough voiced woman, shoving her way towards Brynjolf.

Brand-Shei spat irritably, "Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have waited."

Acaecia carried her two vials back to The Bee and Barb, making her way to the little nook upstairs with a cheery bounce in her step. Brynjolf was close behind, his movements were silent but his light chuckle was enough to alert her to his presence. She sat down onto the small table and took the cold glass of the flask in hand. She swished the red liquid around, casually sipping at it before mulling over its tart taste. "Wolf's blood?"

The edge of his lips curled into a light smirk. "Skeever's blood. Easier to get a hold of."

She set it aside and watched as Brynjolf swaggered forward, lifting the handful of coins into view. You chuckled when he gently placed them into your palm. "I thank you but really they weren't mine to begin with." She let the septims spill out onto the table next to her, knowing they'd pay for the night's rent.

"It never really is, now is it?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out another handful. "This here is for your assistance with Brand-Shei."

Acaecia tsked at him and shook her head, leaning back onto your hands and looked at him squarely. "Now, Brynjolf. I don't want coin for payment. We discussed that already."

"Aye, lass, but I can't quite let you pilfer the treasury just yet. You'll have to find your way to The Ragged Flagon underneath the city before I let you do that. You're not quite part of the guild just yet." He lifted the coin into view once more but he tilted his head when she made no efforts to take it.

Acaecia leaned forward, eyes locked with his like a predator trapping its prey. "Then it's a good thing that my desire isn't in the treasury."

"I'm not sure I follow, lass." His eyes narrowed as he slowly lowered his hand. "Our deal was an item belonging to the guild that matched the task you were given."

She gave a slight hum as if she were deeply considering things, her eyes rolling about the space gingerly. "To be specific, our deal was anything of my choosing so long as it was part of the guild." Acaecia finally rested on him, lifting a tantalizing brow at him. "Are you... part of the guild, Brynjolf?"

His lips parted, a smile tugging as he finally caught onto the true gist of your game and the deal he had cornered himself into. He casually pocketed the coin he had offered you. "You're telling me that I've become your prize of choice?" He shifted his weight between his legs, still uncertain about where all of this was going.

She flicked him a quick wink. "I believe you owe me a payment of some kind."

"A simple task warrants a simple prize," he muttered, eyes wandering across her form to analyze her body language rather than to admire. He was still uncertain, cautious even, that this was some form of ploy to either kill him or something worse. When he was satisfied with what he saw, Brynjolf stepped closer and placed himself between her parting thighs.

"You're not frightened of me, are you, Brynjolf?" She watched his hands cautiously flatten against her thighs, softly caressing upwards towards her hip.

He hesitated at first, a mere fraction of a second, before tilting his head and capturing her mouth. She leaned against him, delighting in the warmth of his kiss and the breath that he pulled from her lungs. His lips tugged, his jaw widening to deepen the hold his mouth held on hers. Her hands skimmed across the soft cloth of his coat, downwards towards the sash around his waist in search for an opportunity.

Brynjolf chuckled into her mouth, swallowing her moans before he stepped away. His lips were swollen and pink tinged, his tongue tasting what was left from the heady kiss. "The Ragged Flagon." His lifted a hand to his mouth, thumb against the corner, palm rubbing the scruff of his stubble. "Get there in one piece and perhaps... there'll be more where that came from."

She grinned, eager to see that he was taking his own pleasure from the little deal. "Does getting to The Ragged Flagon count as a task?"

Brynjolf chuckled, a lighthearted and delightful sound. "A simple task, but aye, it'll count." He took one last look at her, a quick glance at her mouth before working his way back downstairs.

She slipped off of the table, snatched up the coins, and sauntered her way after him. She didn't know the man enough to completely trust him and perhaps doing a bit of surveillance would be wise. Acaecia had met plenty of thieves in her lifetime and none of them had ever been completely trustworthy.

She stepped outside of the tavern, just catching a glimpse of the clever thief. She watched him make his way through the rickety wooden paths and across a bridge towards the massive stone temple. "Mara, huh?" Acaecia giggled under her breath, imagining what could possibly convince him to enter the temple's courtyard. "Why, Brynjolf, I didn't think you were the type."

She followed at a respectable distance, passing through the opening in the temple walls to briefly catch sight of Brynjolf entering into the graveyard's only mausoleum. She narrowed her eyes as she continued forward, wondering just what exactly a thief would enter a graveyard for. A secret meeting perhaps? An item to steal from the dead?

Acaecia carefully rounded the corner and peeked into the mausoleum, expecting to see the mysterious red head but the small place was completely empty save the large granite sarcophagus. She barely stepped into the entrance before she sensed his presence, Brynjolf having turned the tables on her.

"You should know better not to tail a thief, lass." Brynjolf's large hands grabbed hold of her hips and tugged them backwards against him.

She leaned into his warmth, turning her head to show him a soft smile. "Oh? You mean to tell me this isn't the way into the sewers?"

He leaned forward, hot breath moist against the skin of her neck. "I don't need to hold your hand now, do I?"

"Certainly couldn't hurt," she muttered, tickling her fingertips over the tops of his hands.

"I'll give you a bit of a hint, lass. Those stair out by the markets are a good start." His fingers flexed against the curve of her hipbone, the small touch making it through the leathers of her armor. "Off you go now. And next time..." His lips every so softly caressed the silky skin beneath her jaw. "Try not to get caught."

Acaecia smirked as his hold on her slowly disappeared. "Oh but getting caught has been so much more fun." She spun on her heels, flashing him a wink as she stepped away. "I expect payment when I show up at your secret hideout."

Brynjolf's lips quirked as he turned and walked away, moving through the graveyard towards a path that led further behind the temple of Mara. She had another itch to follow after him but she went against the urge. Whatever secrets he was hiding, she'd find them out eventually. And maybe, a part of her really didn't want to know everything there was to know about Brynjolf. Just like she wouldn't want him to know everything there was to know about her.


	3. Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acaecia steps into The Ragged Flagon for the first time and finished a few jobs in exchange for a little reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D: It took me far too long to get this written!! I hope I can get the next few chapters out easier

She worked her way through Riften, taking the closest set of stairs to the wooden walkways below. It was easy to find the rusty gate that lead into the sewers, not at all surprised that it wasn't even locked. It smelled worse closer to the waters and sadly she was getting used to the rank stench. She checked her gear, the daggers and poisons on her belt, before prying open the creaking iron gate.

Acaecia was good at stealing, always had been, but she'd never really been all that great with sneaking. She could distract the pants right off of someone but remaining unseen had always been her greatest of challenges. So when she came upon the noises of two men quarreling up ahead in the sewer, she halted a distance away and listened in.

They were bickering about something, her ears picking up on the words "thieves guild" and something that they weren't going to like. One of them complained about wanting to be rich and you chuckled under your breath. They sounded like a pair of young fools who could easily be manipulated. It was getting to them without causing too much alarm. Fools often attacked first and asked questions later.

And just as she had expected, her approach was noticed immediately and the largest of the two rushed her. "Hold on, I want to talk." She lifted her hand in surrender but his broadsword was swinging towards her head.

Fighting it would have to be.

She dodged and rolled, drawing both daggers and sliding them expertly into the tendons of his ankles. It halted the other with fear long enough for her to make a run for it. She raced through the sewers, skidding to a stop when the tunnel ended, the screams of the wounded man echoing throughout the maze. The drawbridge to the other side was up which gave her only two options: fight off the last brute of a man or jump down to the space below.

Acaecia made the leap, rolling so that she wouldn't put too much pressure onto her legs. She glanced back, hearing the scuffing of boots of the other Nord as he sought her out. She hurried off through the sewers tunnels and slipped into the closest nook. She kneeled down and waited, ears straining to listen into any sounds that might hint at the Nord's location but his friends screams were too loud. He must have given up the chase. Nord's weren't exactly known for their stealth and he needed to lend his friend some aid.

She slipped out of the small space and trudged through the rank muck of the sewers. There wasn't much to see in the Ratway. It looked like every other sewer in any other city, layered in sludge and filled with the pungent scent of Skeever droppings. But as she passed through one tunnel she found herself in a small circular room, humid and littered with fauna. In the center was a chopping block, stained in dark red, and light spilling across it.

She tossed her head, a brow raised. Of course they held on their own executions down there. Someone betrayed the guild... they certainly couldn't call the guards. She'd have to make sure her throat never neared it. One chopping block was enough to deter her from them for a lifetime.

She crossed the room to the door, opening it painfully slow until she could peek into the next room. It was dimly lit. Acaecia could just barely make out the shadowy form of a man draped in beggar clothes at the farthest end of the room. She had few options: face the man head on, bribe her way through, or try to sneak away. Bribing and flattery earlier hadn't been the wisest choice and she doubted it would work this time around as well.

Sneaking, then, because she hated a face to face brawl. She made each step quiet and precise, always staying on the balls of her feet. Any time he made a sign of moving she'd halt, hold her breath, and stare. Eventually she made her way through undetected, releasing the breath she'd bottled up in her lungs upon reaching the next room.

It was brightly lit for an underground space. There were candles scattered and lanterns hung in every corner. There was a man hunched over a desk, babbling to himself and to the book before him. He was distracted which gave her the opportunity to slowly and carefully approach him from behind. She took her time rising up, the creak of leathers just catching his attention as her blade met the softness of his throat. She made sure the kill was quick. But she regretted having taken his life, glowering at the corpse before ambling over to the next door.

Acaecia nearly sighed with relief to see the makeshift tavern, despite how terribly put together it looked. She made out the rickety sign of "The Ragged Flagon" and the few people that were scattered about its platform. She stayed in the shadows long enough to examine each person. She was too far away to pick up on any of their conversations. She'd have to get closer for that and... after the hellish journey she wasn't so sure she even cared anymore.

But then she remembered that accent and the flare of his red hair. And of course, there had been that kiss back at the inn. It had left her terribly wanton, a kiss that had started fierce but ended too quickly. She'd swim through a swamp if it meant getting another taste of it, a better taste of it.

Acaecia glanced over her attire, wishing she had a quick place to clean herself up. But then again, she was certain most of the people at the little tavern were no better dressed than her. She never did enjoy getting dirty, that was for certain.

She skirted along the walkway, eyes still focused on the gathering of people. She made out Brynjolf amongst the group. He was sitting at the bar, a mug nursed in his hand while the others berated him about something. Once Acaecia was close enough and had plenty of time to take in what she needed, she allowed herself to be seen. She leaned against the entrance of the place, listening as the man behind the bar jokingly stated, "It's time to face the truth, old friend. You, Vex, Mercer... You're all part of a dying breed. Things are changing."

Brynjolf tossed his head away from the conversation, not willing to hear it. His gaze met hers, the corner of his lips pulling tight into a smirk. "Dying breed, eh? Well what do you call that then?" He stood up, a hand patting the bar before he sauntered over towards her.

"Brynjolf," she greeted rather cockily, back pressed into the crates.

"Well, well... color me impressed, lass." He tilted his head away, words a husky whisper, "I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again."

"You weren't too worried about me, now, were you?" Acaecia couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt to press away his grin. "Besides, getting here was easy."

"Reliable and headstrong." He stepped a bit closer, all too eager to lean forward. "You're turning out to be quite the **prize**."

"Speaking of **prizes**..." Her brows nudged upwards, hinting at him. "I believe my coming here elicited one."

Brynjolf parted his lips, tongue sweeping across them. "Now that I've... **whetted** your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

"That depends... will I be reward for both tasks with something **more**... satisfying?"

He shifted his weight, a quick glance over at the others at the tavern. They'd been watching the little exchange but they weren't quite close enough to hear it. "You do this right and I'll guarantee you a permanent place here. That means an endless supply of tasks to be rewarded."

Acaecia couldn't pass that up. She should have. She should have turned him down and got as far away from Skyrim as possible. But Brynjolf was charming, the way his eyes slowly roved from her eyes and downwards across her form. She never was good at letting a delightful treasure slip through her fingers, especially if it meant endangering herself.

She lifted her chin up a bit, gazing admirably at his mouth and the stubble around it, stubble that she wanted roughly moving across her skin. "Who are these deadbeats?"

He leaned his shoulder into the same crate that her back was against. "They owe our organization some serious coin and decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways."

"I suppose stealing it outright isn't justice enough?" She leaned a bit closer, her fingertips reaching up to fiddle with the leather fastenings of his cuirass.

"We want them to be... enlightened of the consequences." He looked down at your hands, breathing suddenly rougher as his eyes rolled up to peer through his lashes. "What's more important is that we aren't to be ignored..."

She curled her finger around one of the leather bindings. "Give me their names and it's done."

"Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga." He leaned closer, blocking the view the group had of her. His hand glided across the curve of her spine. "Bersi has an ugly Dwarven urn in his store that he considers more precious than his own wife. Haelga is a devout worshipper of Dibella. That statue she dotes over is your best chance. Keerava has got some family somewhere. Talk with Talon-Jei to see if you can get something out of him."

Her voice was low and she made sure it sounded demanding, "I expect payment when I return."

"Of course." Brynjolf grinned and took a few steps back. "We take care of our own."

She shrugged off of the crate and readied for the long and tedious walk back through the sewers. She was going to need a good, long bath at the inn after this little venture.

But Brynjolf snapped up her wrist, his hold softening. "A few things before you go, lass. There won't be any killing. Bad for business. The dead can't exaclty keep the coin coming."

"Give me an hour." She gave a quick wink before slipping out of his grasp. "I'll have your coin."

~:~

It had been far too easy. She'd stolen the gold statue of Dibella right out from under Haelga's nose, even threatened to toss it into the lake. Bersi's urn was also rather easy, posted right by the door for any "accident" that might happen to it. By the time she made it to Keerava at the inn, the poor Argonian was throwing the coin at her, hissing under her breath about it.

Acaecia was tempted to stay at the inn, to sip down a good drink and scrub her skin clean but... she wanted to get back to the Flagon and finish the whole task once and for all. The only reason for even helping the guild was a selfish and unsatiated desire. She was tired of waiting even though, she had to admit, the waiting had been teasingly lovely.

She crossed the drawbridge, having made sure to lower it when she left. The second Nord from earlier, whoever he was, had left with the other long ago and she didn't care to find out where exactly. She returned to the muggy warmth of the shambled inn and found a large brute of a Nord standing at its entrance.

He eyed her, folding his arms over his chest. "You cause any trouble and you'll be dealing with me."

She flashed him a sweet smile. "I'd never cause you any trouble." Acaecia reached out and placed a very feathery soft hand onto his upper arm. "Unless you wanted me to."

He grumbled but she saw very clearly the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed.

Rather pleased with herself, Acaecia swaggered between tables until reaching Brynjolf. He held his mug rather leisurely, another man sitting adjacent to him, their conversation coming to a slow halt. "Back already, lass."

Acaecia sat down, her eyes never leaving his as she placed the gathered coin onto the table's surface. "Easiest job I've ever done."

Brynjolf tilted his head away, a failed attempt at hiding his smirk. "So I see."

"Word is you managed to do it cleanly," the other man added.

"Dumping bodies and keeping the guard quiet..." He lifted those green gems of his eyes at you. "It can be quite expensive. Judging by the way you handled those shopkeepers, I'd say you've done more than simply proven yourself. We need more people like you in our outfit."

Acaecia knew he was just trying to recruit her help but she couldn't resist taking what she wanted from him. And he certainly hadn't objected thus far. She squirmed in her seat, pressed her arms down into the table. "If there are more... **payments** to be had, I'm in."

The other man at the table laughed abruptly, a rusty but heart-warming sound. "Might need to be careful about this one. She's got larceny in her blood, Brynjolf."

"She's got the telltale signs of a practiced thief, that's for sure." Brynjolf leaned forward as well, mirroring her body language. "I think you'll more than just fit in around here."

Acaecia sat a bit straigher, feigning innocence to the real situation between them. "I don't know... The way I've heard it, your little outfit isn't really doing all that well..."

The other man grumbled something under his breath, glowering down at his half drunk mead.

"Delvin," chided Brynjolf, throwing the man a heated glare. "We've run into a rough patch, lately, aye, but it's nothing to be concerned about. Tell you what. You keep making us coin and I'll worry about the rest."

She gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. "I've no objection to that. I'm just here for the rewards, anyway."

"If you've no more questions..." He stood up, pushing his mug towards Delvin. "How about following me and I'll show you what we're all about."

Finally, Acaecia nearly groaned. If Brynjolf didn't give in to what she wanted soon she was going to take it from him. She followed him through the small tavern towards the back, expecting him to lead her through the door but he stepped over towards a wooden panel, obscured by a few barrels. With the slide of a hand they were opening, revealing another passageway. It was dimly lit, only a small brazier to weakly chase back the shadows.

He motioned her forward before closing the secret door shut. She'd just barely managed to look over her shoulder at him when his hands clamped down onto her hips. He pushed her into the closest wall and encased her mouth in a rough and heady gathering of lips. Teeth clattered and nipped, dry lips glistening with the deepening of the kiss.

He had been holding back in the tavern, all of his tension springing from release. His fingers were squeezing anything and everything, pulling and tugging against her hips and thighs. His hard leg shoved into her groin, her hips bucking to meet the release it offered.

Acaecia clawed against the leather of his cuirass, pulling hard the pliant cloth of his hood when his mouth dove down upon her throat. She lifted her chin, crown of her skull rubbing roughly into the stone wall. She offered up her whole neck, allowing him to nip more readily across her skin.

His hands busied themselves with the belts around her hips, tugging fervently at the lacing of her pants. He shoved his cold hands between feverish skin and cloth, dipping in search of her moistening cunt. He pressed a guttural moan against her ear, huskily muttering, "I've needed this all day, lass."

She widened her stance, granting him easier access and pleading that he would give her what she desired. "I've needed this more." Her fingers clawed once more, finding the skin of his neck to scratch encouragingly across.

Brynjolf's large hand slid up across her neck before enclosing around her jaw. He pressed his forehead against hers and made sure he could see each reaction that slipped across her expression. He held her firmly, lips hovering and heated breath tangling.

His fingertip just barely careened across her entrance before sweeping upwards towards her swelling clit. A heavy heat pooled in her lower abdomen, a twisting need that made her legs tremble underneath her. His thumb circled her hardened bud, a tantalizingly slow rhythm that bundled the breath in her lungs.

The corner of his lips twitched. His eyelids grew heavier, slowly falling over his vision as he focused on his thumb's pace.

Acaecia drew in her bottom lip, raking her teeth across it as a moan threatened. "Please, Brynjolf." She squirmed between his large body, far larger than her smaller elven frame, and the hard stone wall. Even his Nordic fingers felt massive, calloused and rough against her sensitive clit.

He speared his fingers into her walls, all the way down to his knuckles. Her body shuddered down a gasp, tasting the stale mead that clung to the air. He glided his fingers out just as quickly. He let them trace the outer edge, torturing her until her back arched, finally delving them a fraction deeper.

She lifted her leg and allowed her thigh to move up along his waist. She rolled her hips, sinking herself down onto his curling digits. It drew a raspy chuckle from him, to see her so desperate for more. He ceased his games and began rhythmically pounding, her spine rubbing back and forth across the hard stone. He knew just when to thrust, timing the rough pad of his thumb with the expert workings of his fingers thudding inside of her.

Her eyes rolled shut, thighs clenching and knees buckling. Brynjolf was the only thing keeping her from crumpling to the floor. He shifted his weight and released his hold on her jaw, slipping the arm around her waist for support. Acaecia's head languidly fell forward, her next whimper pressed into the smooth leather on his shoulder. Her brows drew together as the pleasure knotted her muscles, her body convulsing around his fingers.

It took only a few more flicks from his fingers before her body gave in. The building tightness spilled out over his fingers and onto her inner thigh. A breathy moan fell passed her taut, quivering lips. Her arms grappled around him and tightened. Her hips pressed forward, enjoying the last pulses of the orgasm.

Brynjolf continued to massage her walls before finally pulling out. "Reward, enough, lass?" He made sure she was well on her feet before taking a very small step back.

Acaecia leaned against the wall, her body still jittery and weakened. She swallowed with a dry mouth and gave a slight nod.

His hands worked on her pants, delicately tying up the lacings that he had been so eager to jerk open. "You're to keep this between us. I don't want the others to think I'm playing favorites."

Acaecia laughed abruptly, his fingers tugging at her clothes causing her body to react once more. It still wasn't satisfied. His fingers had only sparked a deeper need for something more. "We can't have that, now can we?"

Brynjolf finished putting her gear back in place. "No. We can't. This stays between us." He stepped back, giving one last inspection before turning towards the door at the end of the passage. "Meet me in the cistern when you're ready." He pushed open the door and swaggered inside, a bit more confidence in his step.

Acaecia threw her fingers into her hair, raking back the messied strands. He was going to be the death of her.


End file.
